


Bumbling Babbling

by Howlingdawn



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Team as Family, set vaguely in late s2 or beyond bc i've only seen through 2x20
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 15:20:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30023769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Howlingdawn/pseuds/Howlingdawn
Summary: It's been three days since Chuck was taken. Three days of fruitless searching. Three days since John had heard that idiot babbling on about something.He didn't expect to miss it - to miss him - this much.
Relationships: Chuck Bartowski & John Casey, John Casey & Sarah Walker
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Bumbling Babbling

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a joke but I just started watching this show a couple weeks ago and Casey and Chuck give me LIFE (among other things, but rn they're my faves) so it just kept nagging at me until I stayed up until 2am last night writing it. Hope you enjoy!

John prowled the pristine corridors of the Fulcrum facility, grip taut on his gun, sweeping around corners with as much haste as he could manage while maintaining caution. Urgency vibrated through his veins, pushing him to run, to crash through every locked door he passed, and it took every ounce of training and control he possessed not to become like the blundering, overeager idiot he was currently searching for.

_Chuck._

An unwanted pang of worry shot through him, his earpiece seeming all too eerily quiet without his awkward, panicked babbling crackling through it.

Four days ago, with the moron safely tucked away in the van, he would’ve cracked a sarcastic comment about enjoying that peace.

Three days ago, with his protectee’s screams echoing in his ears, he had vowed – silently – to try appreciating the rambling even a tiny bit if they could just get him _back_.

“Come on, Bartowski,” he muttered, slipping into a staircase after clearing another floor. “Where are you?”

On the next floor, a guard waited for him on the other side of the door. John dispatched him an instant, slamming his gun into his face, having no patience today for any delays in his mission. Leaving the body in the stairwell, he continued on his way, gritting his teeth as time ticked away and he still found no clues as to Chuck’s whereabouts.

_This was our last lead. If he’s not here…_

He shook his head sharply, banishing the thought. _Failure is not an option. He’s here._

_He has to be._

He shoved down memories of the last three days, of the shimmering tears Sarah tried to hide, of the midnight sobs she thought he couldn’t hear, and stepped around another corner.

A dead end with a single door guarded by four very large men greeted him.

In the split second they were caught unawares, he ducked back into the shelter of the wall, firing off several shots in rapid succession, the gunfire accentuated by the sound of two bodies dropping to the floor. “Bartowski!” he yelled. “You in there?”

No one answered him.

_If they killed him…_

_No. He’s too valuable._

_But if they hurt him-_

A well-aimed shot blasted his gun out of his hand. He jerked back with a hiss, shaking out the stunned appendage, but before he could take a breath, a meaty fist wrapped around his arm and yanked him around the corner, hurling him to the ground. He skidded, his breath knocked out of him in a rush of air, his shoulder banging into the door to stop him.

_Ow._

The second remaining guard aimed his gun at John’s head, the ominous _click_ of it cocking echoing around him. “Awww, you almost got to your friend,” he mocked. “Too bad all he’ll get to see is your dead body.”

John surged to his feet with a roar, tackling the guard, the gun flying out of his grip and down the corridor. “I don’t think so,” he snarled.

The second guard lunged for him, and John reacted on instinct, flipping instantly into battle mode. He let loose his pent-up rage and frustration, finally channeling it into something more useful than punching bags and sparring with Sarah, launching into the fight with every hour of dwindling hope and growing desperation fueling his every move, every punch and kick, every violent twist and dodge, every grunt of effort and snarl of fury.

As quickly as it had begun, the fight ended, leaving the two guards lying unconscious on the ground.

He swiped his sleeve across his bloodied mouth. “No one,” he growled, “messes with _my_ nerd.”

_That… sounded better in my head._

_Whatever. Nobody heard it, at least._

He stole a ring of keys off one guard’s belt, jabbing them one by one into the lock until the door swung open.

Revealing Chuck, unconscious, hanging from his wrists in the middle of the dim cell, blood oozing from a gash in his forehead to trail across dark bruises along his cheek and jaw, dripping down to stain his dirty, ripped Buy More shirt.

_I’m going to kill them._

“I’ve got the asset,” he reported, pressing a finger to his ear. “Walker, I’ve got Chuck.”

If she said anything in response – and he assumed she said something – he didn’t hear it, busy darting across the room, holstering his gun in exchange for a knife, wrapping a careful arm around Chuck’s waist to catch him as he sliced through the rope tying him to the ceiling. He grunted as the other man’s weight dropped onto him, fumbling to steady him as best he could, half dragging him over to the wall to lean him against it. “Come on, Bartowski, wake up,” he muttered, checking for a pulse, letting out a breath when he found it weak but steady. “Wake up, kid. Wake up. Chuck!”

Chuck bolted awake with a gasp, eyes flying open. “I’m awa- I’m a- I’m- wh- Casey? _Casey_!”

Recognition lighting up pain-dulled eyes, Chuck surged forward, throwing his arms around him, very nearly bowling him over, all but collapsing against John. “Oh, thank God,” he rasped. “Thank God, thank God, thank God, I thought- I th- I mean, I knew you were coming, but- but I- oh, thank _God_.”

His back to the unconscious guards, his face hidden by the hug, John let his eyes close, let his guard drop. In the hysteria bubbling up around Chuck’s relief, he heard the what-ifs, the scenarios he knew they’d both been imagining, and with images of Chuck’s broken, lifeless body finally, _blessedly_ sent packing by that incessant babbling he would never admit to missing and his surprisingly tight grip, he couldn’t help it.

He returned the hug.

He brought his arms up, holding Chuck close, and for a moment, his walls came down, washed away by the relief of having him back, by all of the stress and fear reaching a monumental peak and crashing down to nothing, assuaged by the presence of this one stupid nerd he would break all the rules in the world for.

Not that he would admit it.

“Not, um- not- not to ruin the- the moment, but, um… Casey, are you- are you hugging me?”

And just like that, his walls went right back up.

“Of course not,” he mumbled, struggling to muster up even a vaguely indignant tone, pushing him away.

And yet, he couldn’t quite make himself let go, keeping one hand on Chuck’s shoulder.

A loopy smile positively glowed on his bloody face. “You hugged me.”

“I did _not_.”

“You _did_.”

John narrowed his eyes. “If you breathe a word of it to _anyone_ , I _will_ kill you.”

Somehow, he only grew even more gleeful. “That wasn’t a denial! You _hugged_ me.”

He drew his gun, cocking it pointedly. “Shut up if you wanna live,” he said gruffly, pulling him to his feet.

“Admit it,” Chuck pressed, blanching at the movement, wobbling against him. “You like me.”

“No amount of torture,” John shot back, pulling his arm over his shoulders, “could make me tell such a blatant lie.”

Chuck clung to him, swallowing noticeably, clenching his eyes shut. “Sure,” he rasped. “You like me.”

John growled, deciding to try a different tactic. “Come on. Sarah’s waiting.”

Just as he had hoped, Chuck perked up and let the subject slide, sufficiently distracted, and he moved out, leading the wounded protectee to safety.

And if he happened to stomp on a guard or two for a little extra retribution, well, Chuck was too busy trying to skitter past them to notice.

\-----

Safely away from the Fulcrum facility, John watched from a slight distance as medics settled Chuck on a stretcher, Sarah stepping in to greet him with a lingering kiss to the forehead, careful to avoid his injuries. He crossed his arms, clearing his throat as he looked away, giving them whatever privacy he could considering they were, well, surrounded by people.

Until he heard what Chuck was saying.

“Sarah, he _hugged_ me. Casey _hugged_ me. Me!”

Hands clenching into fists beneath his arms, he turned a fiery glare on the other man. _Why did I want to rescue you?_

Her hand resting in his hair, Sarah glanced dubiously between them, one eyebrow arching.

_Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it._

“Yeah,” she said slowly, taking a step back, trailing her fingers through his hair. “It’s time for you to go to the hospital.”

“No, he hugged me!” Chuck protested as the medics began loading him into the ambulance. “Sarah, he hugged me! Really!”

“Whatever you say, Chuck,” she said obligingly as the doors closed. “I’ll meet you at the hospital, ok?”

Still protesting, he grudgingly flashed a thumbs up through the window as they ambulance started to drive off.

Sarah retreated to John’s side, tucking her hands into her pockets. “Must’ve been some hit to the head,” he commented. “As if I’d ever hug him.”

“Mhm,” Sarah hummed.

“Come on, you can’t _really_ believe him.”

“I know what your growls mean by now,” she said, “and you hated every second we couldn’t find him. I know you care. Even if you won’t say it.”

“I do _not_ -”

She knocked him lightly with her shoulder, flashing a mischievous smile at him. “Whatever you say, you big softie.”

John bristled. “ _Softie_?”

“Softie,” she confirmed, utterly unapologetic.

He would blame it on exhaustion later, or perhaps his own convenient blow to the head, but suddenly, he just didn’t care to fight anymore. Chuck was safe, Sarah was smiling, and his life, baffled as he still was by the fact that he had grown to _like_ this assignment, could continue on unmarred by any further loss. In the moment, he didn’t care much about anything else.

Except, perhaps, maintaining his reputation. Sort of.

“…I’m not gonna win this one, am I?”

“Nope,” she said cheerfully.

He let it go with a sigh. “Just don’t tell him.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” She leaned against him, resting her head against his shoulder. “Softie.”

His half-hearted growl only made her chuckle.


End file.
